As so we begin another tale in this series. The 'children' are three years older and are dealing with more than just a mystery ... Set in October/November 1966.

Five Go Mad in Cardiff

Chapter One: A Sad Homecoming

The journey was uneventful: a train from Boston to New York, three hours waiting at John F Kennedy airport and then the flight to London. Surrounded by people and noise and movement throughout the hours of travel, Ianto Jones had been separated from it, wrapped up in his own misery, a mixture of sorrow and regret. He had known what was going on around him, had responded to announcements and to his companion, Jack Harkness, but always from behind an invisible wall of contained emotions. He hadn't cried yet and doubted he would do so now, not after nearly forty eight hours.

The aeroplane circled the airport once then came into land. Passengers began to gather their belongings together and as soon as the 'plane came to a stop, the more impatient were on their feet and reaching for overhead storage lockers. In seats C and D of row 14, Jack and Ianto did not move. Ianto was staring out at the dull, drizzly English weather and remembering the beautiful colours of a New England autumn and boating on a crystal clear lake. How could so much have changed in so short a time? And the worst was still to come.

"Time to go," said Jack. The gangway was clear as he stood and retrieved their coats and flight bag from the locker. "Stick your book in here."

With their jackets on and belongings packed away, the two young men left the 'plane and descended the moveable stairs into the wet and miserable weather. Following the other passengers, they walked into the airport and separated to queue for passport control; Ianto fast-tracked as a British national and Jack taking longer through the 'other nationalities' channel. Ianto waited for his friend; he couldn't face what was to come without his support. Reunited, they retrieved their cases and went through customs to emerge into the airport proper. A knot of people were gathered behind barriers to greet returning family and friends and there were excited and emotional greetings all around as the two silent friends walked through.

"Jack! Ianto! Over here!"

Jack halted and looked round. If he had heard just his name he would have assumed it was for someone else, but Ianto was an unusual name and the two together could only be for them. John Hart, a fellow student back at Harvard, had even shortened their names to Janto. The crowd was thinning but it still took him several moments to spot who had called out. When he did, he felt a rush of gratitude flood through him. For the past two days he had been Ianto's sole support, a heavy responsibility, but now it could be shared.

"Look, Ianto, Tosh is here." He steered Ianto past the barriers and embraced the Japanese girl. "Tosh, it's lovely to see you."

"And you." She released Jack and turned to Ianto. "Oh, Ianto, I am so sorry." She held him tight and long, fighting back tears. He looked lost and frightened, like a small child instead of the assured and confident young man he had been only a couple of months before at his twentieth birthday party.

"Thanks, Tosh. It's good of you to come and meet us." Ianto finally released her and smiled briefly. Toshiko Sato was an attractive and confident young woman, enjoying her time at university and her long-distance romance with his cousin, Owen Harper. "But shouldn't you be at Cambridge?"

"We wanted to be here," she said simply. Her small warm hand slipped into his and she held on tight.

"We?" asked Jack. He had charge of the trolley with their bags and moved it out of the way of other people.

"Owen came too. He's over there with our bags. This way."

"Are you going somewhere?" asked Ianto. He scanned the crowded concourse and finally spotted his cousin at a row of chairs with two travel bags at his feet.

"Of course we are. We're going with you to Cardiff." As they neared the seats, she called, "Here they are."

Owen stood, hands in pockets and looking embarrassed. He was a medical student at Guy's Hospital and doing well with the academic work. The practical training was more difficult. Owen was not comfortable talking to patients and their relatives and he felt the same feeling of inadequacy now. "Hello there. Ianto, mate, I'm really sorry." They shook hands awkwardly.

Watching them, Jack once again wondered at the repressed natures of English – and Welsh, he amended - men. These two cousins could not show their emotions with anything other than a handshake and that was so inadequate. Jack wanted to shake them, to force them to open up to one another and admit how they were feeling; it would do them both good.

"Jack, good to see you," said Owen with a half-smile. They were very different personalities and had clashed more than once in the last three years, had even fought, but they had learnt to respect one another.

"And you. So, what's the plan?"

Toshiko answered. "We weren't sure how you'd feel. Do you need to rest? Or are you hungry? It's only eleven so there's plenty of time."

"I'd like to get on," said Ianto more abruptly than he'd intended. "I want to see Mam."

"Of course you do, should have realised that." She squeezed the hand that she was still holding.

"Let's get outside and find a taxi," said Jack. "We can talk on the way."

"Taxi? Bus would be cheaper," put in Owen, bending to pick up his and Toshiko's bags.

"This is no time to penny-pinch. Stick the bags on the trolley, Owen."

Jack waited until the bags were stowed then determinedly made for the exit. The Londoner fell in alongside, resigned to his friend's bossy ways. A seasoned traveller, Jack knew Heathrow well and they were soon outside. The cold wind drove the rain into them and they huddled inside their jackets and coats as they walked to the end of the queue for taxis. They did not have to wait long, just ten minutes later they were in a taxi with their baggage and on the way into central London. It was annoying that Cardiff did not yet have an international airport that would cut out the tedious transit through London and the train ride into Wales. They would not arrive until late afternoon at the earliest.

Ianto sat in a corner, looking out at the dismal scene. The weather was matching his mood and the greyness of the people and the buildings just made him feel more depressed. Seated beside him Jack was a warm presence, chatting easily with Owen and Toshiko who sat in the fold down seats facing them. Ianto heard the words but could not concentrate on them. Nothing seemed to matter. He had to get home, that was his driving need ever since he had heard the news and yet, at the same time, he didn't want to arrive

His father was dead.

The steady, unremarkable man who had helped shape his life was dead. Ianto would never see him again. He still couldn't believe it. Emlyn Jones had been the victim of a robbery at Debenhams where he had worked as a senior assistant and sometime tailor in the menswear department. At the end of the working day he had been violently attacked behind the store and no one had noticed until Ianto's mam had raised the alarm when her husband did not come home. A senseless way to die and a waste of a blameless life. And he, Ianto, had been so far away that it had taken him two days to get home to comfort his mam and sister. Ianto felt the pressure building inside him as emotions strove to find release and he ruthlessly suppressed them. This was no time to indulge himself, he had to be strong for his family.

"You okay?" asked Jack quietly. He could feel the tension in Ianto and wished he would let it out, scream and shout at the injustice of life. But that was not Ianto's way and never would be. All Jack could do was stick close and be there when he was needed.

"Umm." Ianto nodded and smiled faintly, forcing himself to pay attention to his friends. "Is Auntie Joan coming to the … to the funeral?"

"No. She's off with her new bloke. Wants to get all she can out of him before he dumps her." Owen had had very little contact with his mother since she had kicked him out at age sixteen. He had tracked her down to Harpenden through a neighbour and was disgusted when she refused to attend her own brother's funeral.

"Aunt Nerys is already with your mum. And Uncle Bryn is coming on Sunday," said Toshiko. "Gwen's been keeping us in touch with all the arrangements. She's arranged for you to sleep at the Coopers, Jack. Ianto's house is too full for you to stay there." Toshiko was not sure how Jack, or Ianto come to that, would take the news and watched them carefully.

"But … You mean …" Ianto was appalled. How was he going to get through this if Jack wasn't with him?

"I won't be far away, Ianto," said Jack briskly, squeezing his arm. "And it's only for sleeping. I'll be with you the rest of the time, whenever you need me."

Not wanting to make a scene, Ianto said, "Yeah, of course. Sorry, overreacting."

"Where are you bedding down, Owen?"

"I'm staying with Tosh and her folks." He ducked his head with embarrassment. He really liked Toshiko and hoped for a future with her but actually staying with her family was an important step in the relationship.

Jack grinned. "Getting your feet under the table, eh?" There was something about Owen than brought out the playful side of Jack's nature and he couldn't help teasing him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing." He spread his arms and shrugged, the picture of innocence.

"It's very good of both of you to give up your time like this. Term must have started," said Ianto.

"He was my uncle," replied Owen, still eyeing Jack suspiciously. "I want to be there, to pay my respects."

"My tutor's very understanding. He's given me a couple of essays to work on if I've time and a reading list as long as your arm," added Toshiko. "Was Harvard all right about you coming away?"

"Couldn't have been better," said Jack. "Sent us off straight away, even helped with the arrangements."

The conversation got onto studies and tutors and university life which was quite similar for all four friends. Ianto joined in but the others could see he was not concentrating on what was being said. Forty minutes after leaving Heathrow they arrived at Paddington Station and unloaded the bags. Jack paid the driver, using funds wired to him by his parents back in Galveston, Texas where they had been living for the past two years. There were not many people in the station – lunchtime on a Thursday was not a busy time – and they checked the board for trains to Cardiff. Overriding Ianto's objections, Jack insisted they wait and catch the fast train leaving in a little over an hour rather than suffer on the stopping service. They used the delay to have soup and sandwiches in the station buffet. Ianto fiddled with his food and ate very little but the others enjoyed the meal.

The 13.05 left on time and the four friends got a carriage to themselves. Once again, Ianto settled in a window seat and looked out at the passing scenery. Owen attempted to engage him in conversation but eventually gave up and chatted to Toshiko instead. Jack, sitting beside Ianto, dozed off with his head resting on the Welshman's shoulder. He slept all the way to Cardiff, exhausted by the journey and the strain of supporting Ianto alone. Ianto had to shake him awake.

"We're here," he said with a smile.

Jack yawned hugely, stretched and rubbed his face. "Gee, sorry about that, guys."

"You obviously needed it," said Toshiko. "Ianto had a bit of a nap too, must be all the travelling." The sight of the two of them, leaning against one another in sleep, had touched her; they belonged together.

"Hope I didn't snore."

"You stopped when I kicked you," said Owen deadpan.

"You what! Oh very funny." He pulled a face at the Londoner who grinned back.

The train slowed as it travelled through the city, rain beating against the windows. The four friends donned their coats and checked they had everything before moving into the corridor. Alone in the compartment for a moment, Jack asked, "You ready for this, Ianto?"

"Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"You're not alone. I'm here."

"I know and I couldn't have got this far without you." Ianto smiled gratefully, squared his shoulders and followed the others off the train.

Edging forward as part of the crowd of passengers, they walked out of Cardiff Central station into the dark afternoon. Streetlights were shining off the rain-slicked road and pavements and passing cars had their headlights on. Pedestrians were moving hurriedly along, umbrellas angled against the driving rain as they made for their destinations as quickly as they could. Toshiko stood to one side and waited for the others to catch her up, looking round for taxis. All together again, they moved to join the long queue snaking round under the inadequate protection of the station entrance.

Trying to avoid a persistent drip that found the gap between collar and neck, Jack stepped sideways and bumped into a figure in uniform. "Oh, sorry."

"Assaulting a police officer, eh? I should take you in for that."

"Huh? I didn't mean anything, it was an acci –" By this time he had got a better look at the trim figure in knee-length waterproof cape and tight fitting cap. "Gwen!" Jack made to hug her but she backed away.

"Not when I'm on duty, Jack!" She glanced behind him. "Ianto, I am so sorry, sweetheart."

"Thanks." Ianto made a fuss of shuffling forward as the queue moved. He was grateful for his friends' support but still didn't know how to respond to their sympathy.

Jack shook his head when she made to say something more. "You chasing bad guys, Officer?" he asked with a smile. He found it very strange to think of Gwen Cooper as a policewoman even though she had been one for the past year.

"On a break actually. Thought I'd come down this way, see if you'd arrived." She moved with them when the queue shuffled forward again. "Hello, Tosh, Owen. Didn't mean to ignore you."

"That's all right. Are you working tomorrow? We thought we might get together," said Toshiko.

"I'm on ten to six, sorry. But I'm off over the weekend and Monday."

"How about tomorrow night? A meal or a drink?" suggested Jack.

"Maybe, have to see how tired I am." She glanced at her watch. "And I'd better get back now or the sergeant will be cross with me. Did Tosh tell you you're sleeping at our house, Jack?"

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

"No problem. I'll see you later, and catch up with the rest of you tomorrow maybe. Bye." She waved and scurried off, dashing through the crowds and crossing the road through the stalled traffic.

The people in front of them had moved once more and Toshiko and Owen were at the head of the queue. They got into the first taxi and departed for the Sato home at Sully with promises to telephone that evening. After only a minute or so, another taxi arrived and Jack and Ianto got in for the trip to Penarth. Alone in the backseat, separated from the driver by a thick and dirty glass panel, Jack took Ianto's hand in his.

"Ianto, whatever you want me to do, I'll do. Okay? If you and your family want to be alone just tell me to get lost, I'll understand. But if you want me to hang around, I'll do that. I'm here for you."

"You have been so good to me. I can't ever thank you enough." Ianto kept their joined hands down on the seat, cautious as always when anyone else was around. "And I really don't know what I want right now."

"Then I'll stick around until you kick me out. God, what miserable weather." The rain was beating out a tattoo on the roof of the slow-moving vehicle as it stopped and started through the late afternoon traffic.

"Seems about right to me." Ianto looked out at the dark streets which matched his mood. "I'm dreading going home," he said quietly.

"It won't be as bad as you think, you'll see."

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, holding hands discreetly. At the Jones house, Jack paid the driver and then he and Ianto made a run for it through the downpour. Their arrival had been spotted and Rhiannon stood at the open door. Four years older than her brother, she had the same colouring as Ianto but was built on the sturdier lines of their father and lacked their mother's height to offset it. She was homely rather than pretty but made the most of what she had and always dressed well. Today she was in a yellow twinset with a black pleated skirt.

"Stay on the mat," she said as Ianto and Jack entered. When they were through, she closed the door and hung up their coats as they removed wet shoes. "I'm so glad you're home, Ianto," she added, with a strained smile. "Come here." The siblings hugged, clinging to one another for comfort.

Ianto was the first to pull away. "Where's Mam?"

"In the kitchen making some tea. Always has a pot on the go, I'm awash with it!" She glanced over at Jack. "Hello, Jack." She had got to used to the American's constant presence in her brother's life but was not particularly happy about it.

"Hi." He stayed in the background, aware he was a stranger in a house of mourning but willing to remain for Ianto's sake.

"How … how is she?" asked Ianto, glancing up the corridor towards the kitchen. "How's she taking it?"

"Not so bad. Keeps busy with the funeral arrangements and everything. Probably won't hit her until after Monday."

"No." Ianto stayed where he was, unwilling to complete the final few yards of his journey. Meeting his mother, seeing the house without his father in it, would acknowledge that everything had changed and he did not want to take that final step.

"It'll be okay, Ianto," said Jack softly, giving him a gentle push.

With a shuddering intake of breath, Ianto walked down the narrow corridor to the kitchen at the back of the house. The house looked the same as always and yet he felt as if he was seeing everything for the first time. The baby photographs of himself and Rhiannon. The small cabinet that had been his grandmother's and which had held gloves and scarves for as long as he could remember. It all looked different. The kitchen was warm, heated by the coal boiler that was kept lit throughout the autumn and winter. The room was empty though the kettle boiling on the stove and the tea things set out on a tray on the central table showed someone was around. He moved further into the room and smiled weakly when his mother came out of the walk-in larder at the far side of the room. She had a tin in her hand, the one that usually held homemade biscuits. She stopped when she saw him.

"Ianto. I didn't hear the door." She put the tin down on the table.

"Rhi saw us arrive. She let us in. Oh, Mam," he ended, his voice breaking with emotion.

They met in the gap between the table and the Belfast sink and embraced. He was a few inches taller than her now and he had to bend to rest his head on her shoulder. Her hand stroked the back of his hair, holding him tight. Tears came to her eyes but she blinked them back. She had wept a lot in the past three days but mostly when she was alone, preferring to mourn in private. After a few minutes, Ianto drew away.

"Want a hand with the tea?" he asked. He found his handkerchief and blew his nose noisily.

"We'll need another cup. You know where they are." She moved to the stove and removed the boiling kettle.

"Jack's here. Is that okay?" He looked round from his place at the dresser.

"Of course it is. You must both be dying for a cuppa after all that travelling." She filled the teapot and put the kettle back on the stove. "I'll put out extra biscuits. It's shortbread."

"Lovely." He added the two cups and saucers to the tray. "I'll take this in."

It was only a few yards from the kitchen to the front room but Ianto had time to marvel at his feelings. Jack showed more emotion over a baseball game than he, Ianto, had shown in greeting his bereaved mother. Was he abnormal? Why didn't he show how he felt inside? Some of his American friends considered him stuck-up because he didn't rave about sports or politics. They were protesting against US involvement in the Vietnam War while he stayed on the sidelines watching. It wasn't just because the UK was not involved. He had strong opinions, especially as Jack could be drafted to serve over there, he just didn't feel the need to show it. Like now, his emotions were private.

In the front room the fire was blazing and the lamps lit on this wet, dark afternoon. It was crowded with the heavy three piece suite, sideboard and coffee table. A number of photographs and knick-knacks on the available surfaces made it appear even more full. There were only two people in the room; Jack and Aunt Nerys. They were on the sofa talking quietly and from the way they stopped abruptly when he came in, Ianto assumed they had been discussing him.

"Tea, lovely." Jack moved a couple of magazines so Ianto could put the tray down on the coffee table.

"Mam's bringing the biscuits. Aunt Nerys, good to see you again." Ianto stooped down to hug her. Nerys Burton was a motherly woman who looked like the stereotypical farmer's wife she was. Stout and practical, her face was weather-beaten but her smile was always heart-warming. There was only a faint resemblance to her sister.

"Wish it could be in happier circumstances, love," she said. She patted his back and then released him. "You're looking thin, have you been eating properly?"

Mrs Jones came in with the plate of shortbread and the conversation turned to food and in particular Ianto's eating habits as the tea was poured. Jack commented occasionally but let the others do most of the talking. Sitting back, he listened as they spoke of everyday things – the latest gossip and the atrocious weather – but never of the reason they were gathered together. To anyone who did not know them well it appeared they were unaffected by the death of Emlyn Jones, that his passing was less important than the thunder storms of the past week. Jack knew better. The Jones family was contained and self-reliant and rarely showed their deepest feelings, never more so than when together. Only when the two boys were alone had Jack seen Ianto passionate or angry. The civilised conversation about trivia continued even when Rhiannon returned from upstairs, and she was the most outgoing of the family. Jack sighed and reached for another piece of shortbread.